The Woman
by Jayxaline
Summary: For Murdoc Niccals, she was The Woman, and as far as he was concerned, she embodied the entire species. To him, there was The Woman, and everyone else. One-shot.


A young woman sat at a bar on a busy Saturday night. She was semi-modestly dressed, wearing a casual black dress, her long, waving brown hair falling past her shoulders, her right hand clutching a tall glass- a Shirley Temple. She sat at the corner of the bar table, facing the bartender, who was in a conversation with a man in his very early 30s, wearing casual, yet fashionable clothes (The bar was a nice one), his two most distinguishing features were the upside down cross he wore around his neck, and the horribly crooked nose, which, because of its status, turned in an almost devilishly appealing way. He was talking very animatedly with the bartender, having had a good night so far, and still had confidence that there was more to come.

He stopped talking however when the bartender drew attention to the woman- who had just finished her drink- asking if she wished for a refill. She nodded, thanking him politely, then glanced at the man, who was staring at her in a peculiar way, a half-grin on his face.

"Tell me," he said, his voice still pleasant and jovial, but now with a new hint of seduction he had not had with the bartender. He leaned forward as he spoke to her, his arms folded on the bar, his gaze intrigued. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in a bar-alone-on a Saturday night, with, what appears to be, a drink no more powerful than carbonated water?"

The woman smirked at his comment, thanking the bartender who had handed her a refill, then left to attend to his other patrons. She stirred the double red straws, glancing up at him, amused.

"Well," She began, "If you're asking why I have a Shirley Temple- it's because I like the taste- always have, ever since I was nine. However, if you're asking why I'm at a bar drinking something that's clearly non alcoholic, that's a little more detailed…"

"I'm not going anywhere love, so spill it." The man egged on, still with his charming, seductive undertone. The woman smiled again.

"Well, to put it simply: Life's so short as it is- and we spend so much time sleeping- that it seems a shame to go about the rest of the time inebriated, not sure how things are one way or another. So, I was left with the choice to either: stop sleeping, or give up drinking, and well, I'd just spent a load of money buying one of those damn memory foam mattresses…" The woman ended with a grin, taking a sip of her drink. The man's eyebrows rose and he began to laughing, surprised, taking a moment before he stopped. Once he did so, the woman began to speak again. "And to answer your previous question- I'm here to see someone who's supposed to perform tonight and how dare you."

The main raised his eyebrows once more, this time more out of confusion and curiosity.

"How dare I what, love?" he inquired.

The woman had a twisted grin on her face, one that seemed to smirk at the world.

"How dare you patronize me by calling me a "pretty thing", I know perfectly well I'm not and I don't need drunks like you telling me otherwise. But before you go denying or apologizing to me, I'll tell you that I'm fine with that knowledge-in fact, I'm rather successful- and since I'm feeling rather generous, I'll let you in on my little secret…" She said, leaning towards him and beckoning him to lean in too, which he complied, after which she replied in a mock-whisper, her eyes fixed on him, a twinkle in them.

"I've found, that with enough charm and confidence, looks don't mean shit."

To this the man burst into enthusiastic laughter and applause.

"Here, Here!" The man said, raising his drink, "It's like I'm lookin' in a mirror- tell ya what, you've talked me into it and I'd be much obliged to buy your next Shirley Temple."

At this the woman laughed too, draining her glass and slamming it onto the counter, shot-style. The man called for the bartender, who refilled both of their drinks. The man then raised his glass, as did she, and the man spoke:

"Fuck looks!" He said merrily, and she nodded, adding:

"In every sense of the word!"

They touched glasses and drank, laughing afterward, the man much amused, forgetting his seductive tone for a much more frank one.

"So," He began again, "who're you here to see?" He inquired, watching as she popped one of the two cherries into her mouth, then picked up the other one and looked at it.

"Y'know, I hate that scene in Pulp Fiction where Uma Thurman and John Travolta are in that diner-or rather, I just hate that part where Uma Thurman just nibbles away on that damn cherry like a fuckin' hamster and never even eats it!" She complained in a cool, calm tone that attracted the man, despite his incomprehension.

"I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about-truth be told, I meant to watch that film, but never got around to it."

The woman looked astonished.

"Really? Wow- you're truly missing out on somethin then- one of the greatest films of our time- a cult classic- a pop culture necessity- the funniest ef'n movie I've ever seen."

The man laughed, taking a swig of his own drink.

"Alright, alright love- you certainly have a way with words don't you?" He mused. The woman shrugged.

"I'm a writer, it'd be a shame if I didn't."

"A writer aye? What have you written?"

"Nothing you would've heard of."

"Try me." The man challenged.

"Can't. Haven't published anything- not that I've tried- but believe me, best sellers- they're phenomenal."

"Shame then."

"Damn shame." The woman agreed.

"You haven't answered my question." The man chimed in suddenly.

"I know." The woman replied.

"Well then?" he pressed on, curiously.

"No, no, no- sorry; if I've learned anything from life experience it's this: There are three subjects that you should never, ever discuss with the general public- especially with a random stranger who has been consuming any alcohol at all- not that I hold it against you." She added with a grin.

"Alright, alright- lemme guess- uh…politics?"

"Correct, and religion- though your personal affiliation is rather clear- is that a serious thing or just a general rebellion against the majority?"

The man fingered the upside-down cross with a crooked grin.

"A bit of both I suppose- but really, I was born into it- but that's a long story love, so go on with yours."

"Well I'd love to hear it someday- okay then, the third, and least known of the three is: never discuss your taste in music with people- usually it becomes a buzz kill in conversation- you could really like a person but then they tell you they're a die-hard Wiggles fan and suddenly you wish you'd taken the 5 O'clock bus rather than the 4."

"Hey, have you heard the Wiggles? For a couple of Aussie blokes they're pretty good."

The woman burst into peals of surprised laughter, the laughter musical and charming, as oppose to the subtly compressed giggles from before. Eventually though, she was able to calm down and continue.

"Anyway- I could tell you what band I'm going to see, and you could like them or not, but It'd give you a whole new perception of me and ruin this wonderful chat."

"I See." The man said, disappointed.

"But," The woman added, causing the man to look up, "I can tell you that they're ef'n amazing- I've never seen them in person before, only on the radio-and bought their brand new album-though I am close with the lead singer- but apart from Stu- can't say I know 'em- anyway, you'll know when you hear 'em- fantastic."

She was interrupted by the cheers from the crowd and the announcement of the next performing band. The man looked up and cursed, finishing his drink.

"Ah, Christ, looks like I'm up next- it was really nice meeting you-" He said, outstretching his hand. She took it, shaking, her eyes meeting his. His hand went slightly limp. "Listen…how late are you here?"

"Once my band performs I've got to go." She said regretfully. The man nodded.

"Well, I can assume then that you'll still be here so- er, I'll buy next round." He said, standing and turning to leave. He turned back and shook her hand again.

"Uh- I'm Murdoc- Murdoc Niccals"

The woman chuckled.

"Of course you are- well, it was nice to meet you Murdoc Niccals- your name suits you." She said, then released his hand. He stared at her for a moment then turned, hurrying to the stage to join the others.

The lights were so blinding on the stage that the audience became invisible. He was forced to focus on the music and though he'd forget later what songs they played, he knew it had been a good show. By the time he returned to the bar however, he cursed his luck. The woman was nowhere to be found.

He did, though, find his drink had been refilled and a napkin placed underneath. For a brief moment he thought it was a number, but as he approached, he realized it was a note, written in neat letters in black sharpie.

"Good show, looks like my loyalties are rightly placed.

Most fun I've had at a bar in a long time. Luckily it appears that we will see each other again.

I look forward to it.

- E.B."

Murdoc stared at the napkin for a long time, until 2-D came up behind him, patting him on the back.

"Hey- we're goin' out to celebrate our success- Damon just phoned- we've sold our Millionth."

Murdoc was still staring at the napkin, a new thought crossing his mind.

"2-D- do you have any close friends with the initials "E. B"?"

2-D paused for a moment in thought, then smiled.

"Nope, no one but my sister- "Eebee"

Murdoc's eyebrows raised almost concealed by his bangs.

"E.B's her name?"

"Well, it's actually Evelyn Baker Pot, but I call her Eebee- haven't seen her in ages- not since she left for Japan- part of her Major in Asian Culture Studies- why do you ask?"

Murdoc now had an astonished but exstatic look on his face and simply shook his head then turned to beam at 2-D, clapping him on the back.

"No reason mate- let's go celebrate."


End file.
